


beginnings

by call_me_steve



Series: seven minutes [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (only damian has powers, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Damian Wayne has Powers, Damian Wayne-centric, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Magic, Meta Damian Wayne, Secrets, all the way to when his 'secret' is revealed, otherwise it's completely normal canon), spans from when damian first comes to the manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve
Summary: When Damian was no more than four years old, Ra's al Ghul beat him within an inch of his life. To save him, they dipped him into the Lazarus Pit. When Damian came out, he found that he'd been cursed with healing powers- just like the Lazarus Pit.Years down the line, Damian goes to live with his father. He keeps his powers a secret. But, when Drake gets hurt, Damian decides to save him, secrets be damned.
Relationships: Damian Wayne & Everyone
Series: seven minutes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745623
Comments: 28
Kudos: 720





	beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> okay, it's explained a little more in the story, but i'll explain damian's powers in the end author's note. uhhh, anyway! i'm planning on writing more for this au!! mostly a part two (tim's pov) about tim's reaction, and some other stuff.
> 
> if you have any ideas, or want to talk abt the au, hmu at my tumblr: [potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)

Damian had come to Gotham with a thousand sins and a single secret running through his veins. Pit water flowed through him just like blood, staining his eyes green and twisting him into the very thing that Father had loathed. 

He was ten years old and knew only two truths: 

  1. He couldn’t let his secret out. No matter what.
  2. Because of this, his spot in the family wasn’t secure.



They both drove him to push away those that Father called their _family._ Timothy Drake’s presence in Father’s life was too threatening to Damian’s own. After all, _Drake_ was Robin. _Drake_ was the prized child. _Drake_ was the one that could _replace_ Damian if Father ever deemed Damian unworthy of his role. Damian wouldn’t make friends with people who held that much power over him. 

If his secret got out, then Father would boot Damian straight out the door and send him right back to Mother and Grandfather. Father would have no reason to keep someone like Damian in his life- not with Drake around. 

Both Grayson and Todd- in their own rights- were horribly _annoying_ to be around. They didn’t quite threaten Damian’s spot in the family, but they were obstacles none-the-less. Grayson was the perfect son, just like Drake. They were the ones that Father believed Damian should strive to be like. _Todd_ was the black sheep of the family. Damian and Todd had far too much in common for either one of their likings- which only further drove the stake into Truth #2. 

Damian was _good_ at keeping secrets, at least. He was able to keep quiet and keep the powers that the cursed _Lazarus Pit_ had ‘blessed’ upon him underwraps. It wasn’t as if he really _had_ to use them. The pit water stayed dormant, most of the time. It was only _just_ toxic enough to let Damian know that it was still lurking. It showed through his eyes- emerald green things that Mother had once claimed to be a beautiful blue, like Damian’s father had. Other than that, Damian could ignore it most days. 

Of course, death always pulled him in. And, with the family that he had, everyone always came home dripping of _pain_ and _death_ and all of the things that the pit was drawn to. Todd was the worst to be around- death radiated around him, even if he _hadn’t_ killed anyone. The pit knew it’s victims better than anyone, and was always pulled in. 

Damian did his best to avoid the cave, most nights. The family Father had chosen would- Father included- end up bloody and bruised and everything in Damian’s body would say, _Heal them, Damian,_ heal _them._

If Damian were to heal them, his secret would be revealed to Father. 

So he didn’t. 

Besides, most injuries were nothing more than skin deep. They were easily fixed with the ways of man- stitches and bandages and a long night’s sleep. It wasn’t anything that Damian had to concern himself with.

And yet, he always knew that, one day, he would _have_ to reveal himself. Father would get hurt too bad, one day, and Damian knew he wouldn’t be able to let him die.

That day comes, in the form of the Justice League approaching Wayne Manor, a too-limp body held in an alien’s arms. The _S_ on his chest is bathed red, though Damian knows at first sight that the blood is not his. That day comes, in the form of Damian standing behind Grayson and Drake as they motion for the League to join them downstairs in the cave. 

That day comes, and Damian knows the body in Superman’s arms is his father. Damian knows the body is too-long gone, and not even the pit can restore it. Seven minutes has always been the limit for most dead things, and Father has been dead for hours upon hours. There is no saving him. Damian’s secret remains safe for another day, but something breaks deep within his chest and Damian doesn’t even think that his powers can fix it. 

Damian sits on the stairs that wind down to the cave’s main foyer, and watches the Justice League talk to Grayson and Pennyworth- and by extent, Drake, though Grayson had told him to go upstairs for a bit. Damian can’t hear what they have to say well enough to really understand it- all he knows is that Father is dead. 

Father is dead. 

By the end of their talk, the League leaves the body to Grayson and Pennyworth to deal with. They disappear and give their condolences, and each one passes Damian with a stare that radiates _pity._ Damian hates pity- hates the League even more. He hates them for _letting_ his father die, hates them for _so_ many little things, that he doesn’t think he can list them.

Time passes. Grayson and Drake sit downstairs together in silence, and Damian watches without a word. Pennyworth has long since disappeared upstairs, under the guise of going to fetch tea when Damian knows he’s really just going to mourn on his own. The pit water that lies in his body tells him to go to the body and _try-_ though Damian knows it’s useless and that it won’t work. 

He still finds himself standing. There’s an emotion he isn’t able to label splashing around deep in his gut. It makes him upset, whatever it is. He wants to scream at the frustration that piles up, at not _knowing-_

His father is dead, and when Damian finds himself next to the body, he knows that it’s permanent. There’s not a single shred of life hanging to the corpse or it’s brain. There’s the smallest possibility of the _real_ Lazarus Pit bringing him back, but that chance is far and few in between. Besides, though Damian has grown up beside a man who refuses to die, he knows that, once things pass those seven minutes, there is no bringing _anything_ back. 

Those things that are dead are to remain dead. 

Seven minutes is all that they have for a rebirth. 

As he stares down at the body that once was his father, that unknown feeling increases tenfold. There're a million things that he wants to do- lash out, _hurt_ something, kill something until it’s heart stops beating in it’s chest and it stills like his father, and maybe _revive_ it and pretend like he’s just brought God’s blessing back to the world. He wants to hide away in his room and mourn like real children do, with tears and sobs and anger. 

His father is dead, and he’s not enough. Maybe there’s a way that he _can_ be enough- could have been enough. Another dip into the Lazarus Pit when he was younger might have increased the time limit he’s stuck with, but he’d been ever so fearful of it’s scorching waters ever since his first visit. Maybe if he’d been with Father, at the time. Of course, it’d been a _League_ mission, and Damian wasn’t League. He wasn’t even a hero- the title of Robin still sat with Drake.

Through his thoughts, he almost misses the flash of movement behind him. A single childish thought pops up, telling Damian that, _maybe,_ Father might just be alive. He isn’t- he’s still laying before Damian, a white sheet covering his head. Someone else, then. A bat, perhaps- 

It’s Grayson. Grayson, with his soft and quiet steps that bleed grace that Damian’s always wanted to have. Mother walked much the same way, though she was worlds more confident with her strides- she walked to draw attention, and Grayson walks in a ever-so careful way such that _no_ one can notice him. It’s a way that most of the ‘Bats’ walked- Drake walked silently, but without grace. Todd walked without a sound, just like Father, though both of them were built too heavy for it to seem possible. 

“Grayson,” Damian greets, when he’s no more than three feet from his side. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder seconds later, and Damian shrugs it off. He hopes it’ll off put Grayson enough for him to slip away, back to the quiet of _his_ room. While the Manor isn’t _home,_ Damian’s bedroom is the one thing that’s _his._ Nothing disturbs him there, and no one, besides Father, is allowed inside. Grayson, however, stays in his spot to Damian’s right. With him, an arsenal of soft words hangs nearby. 

“I know it sucks, but- But we’ll just have to- we’ll just have to do this without him,” Grayson says, words quiet. They’re only quiet so he won’t cry, Damian knows. They’re only _quiet_ as to not make Grayson look weak in Damian’s eyes. Emotions, apparently, are things to be careful of, around ‘children’ of Damian’s age. “It’s going to be really hard, but at least we’ve got each other.” 

Truth number two shrieks in Damian’s ear- Father’s death _surely_ should have triggered the end to Damian’s time as a Wayne. Without him, Damian had no reason to stay. He _knew_ Grayson and Drake didn’t particularly _like_ him- after all, it was Damian’s own doing to ensure that they didn’t. But, Grayson doesn’t tell him to go pack so he can take him back to Mother. He doesn’t tell Damian, _Goodbye._

Grayson extends an olive branch, and ever so foolishly, Damian latches on to it. 

And so, Grayson and Damian move into a penthouse closer to the heart of the city. Drake, in the end, doesn’t come with them. Grayson gives the title of _Robin_ to Damian when he takes up Batman’s cowl, and the conversation between Grayson and Drake isn’t one that Damian’s privy to. Drake becomes _Red Robin_ and goes away to his team of Titans, for a bit. The penthouse is much more homely than the manor was. Damian still has his own room- one that only _he’s_ allowed inside, granted he cleans it so that Pennyworth doesn’t have to. 

Damian keeps his room as clean as army barracks, and Grayson tells him that he’s _allowed_ to have more things. They get an easel and paints, a few sketchbooks and pencils and so many things that Damian can’t wait to get his hands on. The penthouse becomes Damian’s home, and he becomes excited, during patrol, to return to the warmth of his bedroom and the energy that comes from it. 

When they aren’t out on the streets at night, Grayson takes him all over Gotham. They get ice cream and they visit museums and loads of other things. 

His two truths become one, and even that one seems like such a small hurtle to pass over. He thinks about telling Grayson about it, as the days pass. After Pyg, he wants to let the cat out of the bag more than ever, but things keep _happening_ and Damian can’t keep up with it’s demand. He watches as people get hurt, as Grayson gets thrown around, as he himself gets pummeled into the ground time and time again. 

The police force suffers casualties and Damian thinks, _I could have saved them._ Grayson gets stitches and Damian thinks, _I can fix it._

Each time, he gets a little closer to doing it. Each time, he remembers Icarus and the sun and decides that he doesn’t want to get burned. There’s too much at stake- he could lose his home and he could lose Grayson. He still doesn’t know what Grayson’s policy _is_ towards mutants and metas alike. It could be like Father’s, or it could be _accepting._

Damian finds he’s too afraid to find out. 

More things happen. Damian gets shot in the back and sent off to Mother. She replaces his spine, heals his body. When it turns out that the pit isn’t needed, Damian nearly cries in relief. She sends him back home with a warning he doesn’t hear, and he comes back home to find that Grayson is gone. 

Batman shows up at their door, and it’s not _Grayson’s_ Batman- it’s a Batman that reeks of life and death and _sin,_ a Batman that came back to life with the help of the pit. He tells Damian that _he_ was Father’s biggest mistake, and while Damian knows that this Batman was never _Father,_ he still can’t help the way his heart pounds. Together, Damian and Grayson take down the Not-Batman, with the help of Batwoman, who bleeds the pit’s green waters all the same. 

She died, and she came back. 

She isn’t like Damian, though. No one is. 

The Not-Batman fiasco proves that Father is alive. Grayson is quick to discover what happened, and _somehow-_ Somehow they bring Father back to life. The price is a bullet lodged into Grayson’s skull. Even as the power of the Lazarus Pit _roars_ within his body, Damian doesn’t dare use his powers. Grayson isn’t _dead_ yet. They can still _help_ him. 

And they do. 

Time passes. Batman Incorporated rises. People fall, and Damian fights to protect his family as _Leviathan_ starts poisoning their streets. For a time, Damian stays beside Grayson as Batman and Robin. Then, Grayson disappears for Blüdhaven, and Father returns to the role that he’d carved for himself. Batman and Robin return. Leviathan shrieks and digs her claws into the Earth. 

Damian knows a single truth. 

  1. His secret is not to get out. 



He re-meets the Joker while searching for an abducted Pennyworth, and almost throws up at the rich smell of death that radiates off of the bastard’s body. During their first encounter- locked up in a little room in the Police Department- Damian had hardly noticed the smell. He’d been too focused on blood-lust and the need to _hurt._ Now, it’s all too present. It’s the only thing he _can_ focus on, as he looks the Joker in the eyes. 

He meets another Not-Batman, too. It’s not the best day for him. 

Eventually, Leviathan erupts from the ground and, with the hefty bounty placed on his head, Damian races to stop her. He gets ridden with arrows for his trouble and watches as Fatherless throws Grayson halfway across the room. He watches as Fatherless lifts his sword and watches as he’s powerless to stop it from sliding through his stomach. 

For the first time, Damian truly feels death. It is cold and poisonous, and it tells him that the toxic sludge of the Lazarus Pit water in his veins cannot save him now. The world goes to black, and Damian almost wants to laugh. The pit water had blessed him with the power to save others, but not once had it allowed Damian to turn the dime on himself. 

Damian wakes up in hell. He fights to survive. Death becomes a familiar feeling, deep in his bones. 

And, like most unnatural things, Damian comes _back._

* * *

It’s been months since Damian breathed his first breath. Re-birth was a tricky thing that Damian had seen thousands of times before, and its effects weren’t lost on him. The poison of the Lazarus Pit still resided in Damian’s body, turning his eyes an acidic green when he was at his weakest. His only solstice was that he hadn’t come _back_ via Lazarus Pit- it’d been a Chaos Shard that took over his body for a good week and a half, giving him powers that went away once he used them too much.

Now, compared to then, the world was still. 

Grayson had gone through a brief stint as _Agent 37,_ but was back in action as Nightwing. Father had lost his memories, but came to his senses and returned as Batman. Damian himself had fallen off the grid in an attempt to redeem himself and undo the Year of Blood, but he was finally back in Gotham, now in the possession of Maya Ducard and Suren Darga’s friendship. 

There’s nothing to save the world from. Patrol goes on normally. Drake doesn’t flee to the Titans as soon as he sees Damian. Even _Todd_ comes around and stays, appearing under the guise of leaving a book lying around the manor and staying because _‘Alfred’s food is the only_ good _shit in this goddamn city’,_ as if he doesn’t always say that fast food is a godsend. Damian doesn’t immediately turn on them and tell them to leave, because he hasn’t _believed_ in his second truth for a while now. 

Instead, he finds himself almost _content_ with what he has. 

The bickering between him and Drake is friendly, the banter between him and Todd is familiar. Damian had missed Grayson- the last time he’d actually seen him had been the day Damian died, and by the time Damian came _back,_ everyone thought that _Grayson_ was dead. 

Damian’s the closest he’s ever been to spilling his secret. 

Of course, the stillness comes to an end. It’s the same old, same old, really. The group they have to deal with isn’t a big named villain, but they’re digging up enough trouble to get the Bats involved. Something about smuggling weapons into Gotham, Father had said, before he’d added, _They might be connected to the Penguin. There’s not enough sources to prove anything, but the weaponry his goons use seems similar._

It’s enough to keep the group on their toes, at least, no matter how much Todd says that he can take the Penguin on, special weapons or not. While Damian doesn’t doubt it- because, really, Todd’s done it before- it’s not something any of the family wants to hear. Cockiness gets you hurt. Everyone knows that. 

In the end, the plan that Father lines out has Damian out of the equation completely. He’ll be taking charge of patrolling Gotham’s streets for any other criminal activity, as Father and Drake tackle the weapons’ deal and Grayson keeps an eye on the Penguin for any unusual activity. Todd- while not sentenced to _patrol-_ doesn’t have a very big part. He’s meant to sit out on the sidelines until it becomes evident that either party needs help- whether it be Damian, Father, or Grayson. 

Damian gets _mad-_ he gets downright _furious_ that he’d just be carded to the side like this, after everything that they’ve _gone_ through- After everything that happened, Father still chose Drake over Damian. 

It hurts, and when Damian hurts, he lashes out.

“You can’t be _serious!_ ” he ends up screaming, the moment that all notion of planning is put away. Even Todd is sulking in the corner, after being pushed away in favor of being nothing more of _backup._ “You _know_ that Todd and I are far more suited for this job than you and _Drake!_ Drake is nothing more than a pig-headed _buffoon_ who’ll surely get himself- and _you_ included- killed-”

“That’s _enough,_ Damian,” Father returns, and nothing can stop the way that the Lazarus Pit rages through Damian’s veins. He’s never had to deal with pit madness- not in the way that both Todd and Mother had, though he’d never quite figured out _why-_ but it’s residual anger clings to him like a spider and it’s web. “ _I_ make the plans here. _You_ follow them. My decision is final- if you keep this up, you’ll be lucky to be going out at all.” 

Damian keeps it up. He throws insults at Drake and knows that he shouldn’t- he’s not _mad_ at Drake, he’s only upset with _Father._ Even so, he doesn’t pause for anything more than air, citing that his skill set is far more valuable for this type of work than Drake’s. “Todd and I should be going out there, tonight! You’re a blasted _fool_ for not seeing it!” 

Father gets that look in his eye that says he won’t listen to anything more. “To your room, Damian. I’ve had enough of your attitude.” 

Todd’s familiar feeling of death gets fainter. It’s clear he doesn’t want to be around for this argument. As Damian looks around for any of his other brothers- they all _know_ that Damian is better suited for the task, he _knows_ that they understand that- he finds that they’re all gone. It’s even more frustrating to realize that there’s no one on his side because they’d already left to go elsewhere. 

Damian steadies his shoulders and pushes them back, raising his chin to meet his father’s eyes. “You’re a fool, Father,” he says, ever so carefully. Damian rounds Father and makes to disappear upstairs. He’ll be back down in the cave once they leave, regardless of what Father asks of him. When he hits the base of the stairs, he turns his head back. “I certainly do hope that none of you come home in a body bag.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say. 

Damian _knows_ it’s the wrong thing to say the moment it slips from his lips, but it makes the pit water inside of him churn happily. Father yells at him to go- says he’ll be lucky if Father lets him out of the manor at _all_ tomorrow for patrol, or the night after that. Damian does and can’t help the horrible feeling of satisfaction that burrows up in his gut. It’s the one that he’d always felt early on in the manor, when Mother’s influence still pressed down on him like a leaden weight that Damian couldn’t escape from. 

He hates it, so much so. When he gets upstairs, he rushes into his room and slams his door, even though he knows Father won’t be able to hear it. He takes little pride in it. Instead, Damian throws himself onto his bed and buries his head in his pillow, cursing himself for ever _thinking_ of saying it. Death wasn’t something to take lightly, even if a good amount of people always seemed to come back. 

Mother. Father. Grandfather. Todd. Damian, too. 

The people who didn’t come back always outnumbered the people that did. 

_Seven minutes,_ he thinks. _Seven minutes and you’re dead. Seven minutes, and_ nothing _can bring you back._

No matter how many birds he had brought back, how many strays that he’d healed, how many people he stealthily fixed up, Damian was never able to save anything that was dead longer than seven minutes. Normally, there was absolutely no extent to what Damian could fix. Injuries ranged from small cuts to huge, gaping wounds. The only thing stopping Damian- excluding the absence of any major organ, which wasn’t something that Damian found he could work around, no matter how hard he tried- was the time limit. 

If Father or Drake or Grayson got hurt out on the field, Damian would only be able to pray that they made it home before anything worse happened. If they _died_ out on the field, Damian would only be able to hope that they made it back with minutes to spare. 

He only prays, now, that they _don’t_ get hurt. 

Damian’s not too sure if he’ll be able to take it if they do. He already _knows_ the feeling of uselessness- of having someone he cares about die, and not being able to fix it. First, it’d been Father. Seeing his corpse and thinking, _if you’d only come back a little earlier. If I’d only come with you._ Then, it’d been _Grayson-_ hearing of his death from the likes of Drake because Father was too busy mourning, then thinking, _if only I hadn’t died. If only you hadn’t left while I was still gone._

(There was that brief couple of weeks, where he’d thought they’d lost _Drake_ too. It’d been a punch in the gut, one that Damian hadn’t been able to push away.) 

He thinks about death for a while, long enough that when he finally drags himself back down to the cave, there’s no one there. Briefly, he thinks of tapping into the coms and nearby security cameras. Damian decides against it- there’s no reason to feel anymore of Father’s wrath. He’s sure they’ve already had to adjust their plans. Father probably put Drake in charge of patrolling Gotham. That, or Todd. 

Their loss. 

Instead, Damian quickly sneaks up to the kitchen and squirrels away a bowl of yogurt and fruit. He knows that Pennyworth is lurking somewhere in the manor, or possibly away in his room, so he doesn’t worry too much about running into him. Once he has his snack, he makes his way back down to the cave, and plops himself down beside one of the back tables, riddled with little pieces of machinery that Damian had been fooling around with not too long ago. He wasn’t trying to make anything specific- just something small and helpful, whatever it may turn out to be. 

Just as he’s about to see the makings of _something,_ the door to the Batcave opens, making way for the Batmobile to roar into place. It loudly slams shut seconds after Todd’s bike rushes through, carrying both its owner and Grayson. Damian thinks that he should, possibly, get up and greet them. A glance at the clock tells them they’re a bit later than they were supposed to be, but a glance over to _them_ shows why. Grayson’s already torn off his domino mask, rushing over to the Batmobile as her doors slide open. His hair is an absolute mess, his black suit riddled with holes. The blue crossing his chest is stained red. 

Todd, as he remains on the bike for a moment longer to catch his breath, looks much the same once he tears off his helmet. His jacket is gone, as are the guns that normally rest in the holsters on his hips. The only gun still there is the one on his thigh, though it gleams red when it catches in the cave’s bright lighting. 

Something must have gone wrong, Damian’s gut warns. Something _had_ to have gone wrong. 

Without thinking, Damian quickly rushes over to the Batmobile. He doesn’t get close enough, by the time that Father finally emerges from her seats. In his arms is a limp body.

Damian’s mind flashes back to watching Superman, as he’d walked into the manor with Father’s black cape swaddled up in his arms. Red painted over the hero’s normally bright insignia, already broadcasting the horrors of the package in his arms. 

_I certainly do hope that none of you come home in a body bag._

Father barks, too loud, for someone to go fetch Pennyworth. Damian doesn’t move, but Grayson is quick to launch himself across the floor. His steps aren’t graceful or quiet, they’re booming and panicked and hurried, and all Damian can think of is _seven minutes_ and _body bag._ In a flash, Father is halfway across the cave, Todd hot on his heels. Damian is quick to follow them, though neither even notice that he’s down in the cave yet. 

The form in Father’s arms gets laid out on Pennyworth’s surgical table- Drake’s got his hands limp against his sides, red blooms far too quickly over the cool silver of the table. There’s a wound on his shoulder, one that’s been unattended to, and another on his thigh. He’s not moving, and Damian isn’t so sure that his _chest_ is moving either. 

Todd points it out, and Father says that they’re running out of time. “He just stopped-” Father growls. “He was _awake_ only a few moments ago- _goddammit,_ Tim-” 

Damian knows three things, the moment he sees Drake spread over the table. 

  1. Pennyworth isn’t going to make it downstairs in time.
  2. Drake is, by all means, legally considered dead.
  3. Damian can fix this.



Without stopping long enough to really _think_ about it, Damian forces his way past Todd and barks out, “How long has he been unconscious for?” 

“ _Damian,_ ” Father nearly _roars,_ “we don’t have _time_ for this! Get away from-” 

“I _asked_ you _how long!_ ” Damian barks, right back. It doesn’t matter, now. Whether Drake is still alive or dead, ( _seven minutes),_ Damian’s throwing all restraint to the wind. He reaches up and goes to place his hands over Drake’s heart- it’s the fastest way to bring something back, or so Damian’s found. 

Seconds before contact is made, Father grabs at Damian’s hands far too roughly, and pulls him away. “I _told_ you to be _up in your room!_ Now _go!_ Your brother is _dying-_ ” 

“That’s precisely what I’m trying to _stop!_ ” Damian shrieks. He wretches his hands free and slams his shoulder into his father, sending him flailing back a few steps in surprise. Todd shouts, but all Damian can think about is how much _time_ they’re losing. (Seven minutes.) Damian ducks down under the table and rolls to the other side, so at least Drake will be able to keep Father from interfering for a few more precious seconds. 

“ _Damian!_ ” Father bellows. 

Time slows, and for a split second, Damian thinks of his single truth in life. He’s risking everything by doing this. He’s risking his home and his place in his family- but by _not_ doing it, he’s risking his _brother._

Damian thrusts his hands down, and unleashes the Lazarus Pit’s magic into the cave. 

* * *

Damian’s earliest memory is the first time that Mother had pressed a sword into his hands. She’d uttered the words ‘ _kill him’,_ and Damian had refused. 

He’d been three (and a half) years old, with his father’s blue eyes, his mother’s olive skin. He’d been tiny and pudgy, already trained to be silent. He knew how to use a sword better than he knew how to talk, but the only thing his blade had ever breached was the stuffing of dummies. At the time, he wasn’t quite yet considered an _al Ghul,_ but he was learning to be. Mother had told him that by the time he’s four, he’d be ready to start his _real_ training. 

Damian remembers it like it was yesterday. 

The room around him was dark, the only light a flickering candle in the hands of his mother. She retreated to the back corner of the room to watch the proceedings. His teacher- a man not much older than his mother herself- knelt before him, head lowered and hands chained behind his back, the rope binding him snaking to the floor where it wrapped around a protruding notch in the ground. The teacher he was supposed to kill was the very man to _teach_ him to use a sword.

He’d long ago guided Damian’s clumsy hands, taught him the proper way to hold a sword and the proper way to swing it just so. His name is lost on Damian, but Damian isn’t sure he’d want to know it, even now. 

Even with his lack of years, he had known what Mother wanted him to do. He couldn’t possibly fathom it. The idea of _hurting_ another living person was impossible for Damian to grasp, at that age. He already knew what it was like to feel blood bloom up from a welt on his skin, but not _once_ had he ever caused such a wound on another person. 

“Kill him, my heart,” Mother said, lips hardly moving. 

The sword felt heavy in Damian’s hands, but it felt welcomed all the same. For all of his life, the sword had been a constant in his life. It’d been the one thing he had- the one thing that he could latch onto for familiarity. “I can’t,” he had said, focusing on the weapon he’d been holding. “Mama, I-” 

His mother found his eyes, her’s have always been a beautiful green like Grandfather’s, though she’d told him once that they once were _brown._ Damian hadn’t met his father yet, but there were nights that Damian wishes he _hadn’t_ been born with his father’s blue eyes. He was the odd one out of the al Ghuls. He was supposed to be _Grandfather’s_ heir, not his _father’s._ (Batman, his mother had said. His father was Batman, but that name had no gravity on Damian.) 

Damian remembers, clearly, that Mother’s stare had been disappointed. 

She tried to urge him to do it again, words growing louder. Damian could hear it in her voice. She’d been getting angry with him, but Damian couldn’t- He _couldn’t._

He dropped the sword. 

What happened next, Damian only remembers because Mother had told him about it. Grandfather had been furious, had beaten Damian so bad, that they’d required the Lazarus Pit to bring him back. From that day on, Damian had blazing, emerald green eyes. 

He’d only realized that he’d been _poisoned_ by the pit water, when he’d come upon a dead robin on his windowsill. It wasn’t uncommon to find fallen birds- it was one of the preferred tricks to play on ‘the little lord’. Everyone knew of Damian’s preference for animals. It was a childish thing, and a heavy mistake, to like animals. This was his punishment- dead things littered upon his possessions. 

Damian recalls that he’d been no more than four at the time, and had pulled the robin into his small hands. He’d cried over it, so bad that he didn’t even notice the bird in his hands let out a hearty chirp.

It’d been dead, not even moments before- 

He’d screamed. 

* * *

Drake lets out a chopped cry when his heart restarts. His eyes fly open for no more than a moment, before they slide shut. Damian continues letting his power seep into his brother’s chest, healing up the wounds that snake around his legs and the rest of his body. The Lazarus Pit has always fed off of sanity, but Damian will be _damned_ if he lets the pit twist another one of his brother’s minds. There’s nothing he’ll be able to do about the resulting pit rage, but he can curb it’s madness so it feeds off of Damian’s own mind instead. 

When he’s done, he steps back, breathing in and out. He hardly even registers the presence of anyone else in the room, too busy watching the careful rise and fall of Drake’s chest. It’s the first time Damian’s ever willingly curbed the effects of raising the dead- in animals, there was never any need to, and in people, what Damian healed was always so minor that there was never any need for a big payment. Each one came out with a newfound anger, and Damian’s sure that Drake will be no different. 

It’ll be weaker, for him. It won’t be as bad as Todd had it- because Damian can already feel the effects rushing through _him-_ raw and poisonous and ever so dangerous. He knows that if he doesn’t break away and take time for himself, he’ll end up teetering over the edge and shatter like a china plate. 

Slowly, Damian looks up. He first meets Todd’s eyes, which are wide and a fearful blue-green that Damian has long since associated with the pit. He’s standing stock still, hand placed on the table beneath him, other hand frozen in the air from where he’d been reaching out to stop Damian. After a lengthy beat of silence, Todd’s eyes fall from Damian to Drake, watching as their previously dead- for less than seven minutes, thank God- brother _breathes_ again. 

“What- What did you-” he stutters out, taking a step back. “What did you _do?_ ” 

Damian can’t help but reply with an apology, stepping back himself. He adds extra distance between him and the table- and the man who lies beyond it. “I’m sorry- I’m- I had to do it- If I didn’t, Drake would have-” 

He finally looks to Father, who’s _seething._ His nostrils flare, his cheeks are red. “What did you _do?!_ ” he bellows, same as Todd, but so much _angrier._ He’s mad- pissed beyond belief that he’s been harboring a meta in his house this whole time- that he’s allowed someone with powers out on the streets. Damian knows he’ll only follow suit if he remains downstairs any longer. 

“I saved him,” he says, ever so simply. 

Damian turns on his heel and races for the stairs without exchanging another word. He doesn’t _want_ to get angry or be mad right now- but the pit always twists your mind until you feel like an animal, leaving its mark deep within you and telling you, _You’re never going to be the same._

Just when his feet hit the staircase, his body crashes into Grayson’s- who’d nearly tossed himself down the stairs in his haste. Pennyworth is behind him, pulling on medical gloves as he takes the stairs two at a time. Grayson misreads the panic on Damian’s face and reaches down to pull him up into his arms, and Damian flails trying to get away. 

“I know it’s scary,” Grayson hurries to say. “Tim’s gonna be alright, Damian, you don’t have to-” 

Damian lands a solid kick to Grayson’s forearm and the pit water in his veins nearly _shines_ at the _pain pain pain_ that hits Damian’s senses. Grayson’s so startled he drops Damian, and Damian hits the floor _hard._ But- it’s too late. It’s too late. 

The anger inside of him is so potent it _burns,_ and it’s all Damian can do to keep in his scream. 

“I _know that!_ ” he cries, baring his teeth. The sensible part of him, deep, deep down feels _embarrassed._ He’s acting like a child- animalistic and _horrible._ “Let me _through,_ or you’ll _regret it-!_ ” 

His eyes flash neon green in his anger. Grayson sees it, and stumbles back. Someone says something, but Damian’s senses are starting to clash together and blur out the world around him. He doesn’t recall coming out of the pit being _this_ bad- this _overwhelming-_ but he supposes that, from all the times he’d ever seen Grandfather rise from it’s waters, it must be like this for other people. 

They always say that, when you get angry enough, you start seeing red. All Damian sees is toxic, poisonous _green._

Something shifts near him, and without thinking about it, Damian lunges-

Arms wrap around his waist, strong ones clad in red gauntlets. Even as Damian struggles out of the hold, flailing out like a deranged animal locked in a cage, the arms don’t let him go. He lets out a horrible howl, and knocks his head back with all his strength. The back of his skull collides with something hard, and the arms drop him. Instead of attacking, Damian rewires the _fight_ part of his brain to go into _flight._ There’s no way he’ll be making it up the stairs, so he slowly starts backing away from whoever it was that had grabbed him. 

He’s not in his Robin uniform, but that doesn’t mean that he’s without weapons. He’d be foolish to go without them, and if Damian is anything, he isn’t _foolish._ He’s overly careful and paranoid- he faintly recalls Grayson saying that it was one of the things that Damian had in common with Father. There are knives littered throughout his clothes, some sloppily hid as a front, and others much more carefully covered in pockets that no one knows about. He pulls out one of his smaller ones, hidden beneath his pant leg, and brandishes it. Damian knows, most likely, that he won’t get a hit in with it, but habits die hard. 

No one makes to attack him. 

Damian breathes in, and he breathes out, pulling all of his senses back into place. While the haze of green isn’t receding on its own, Damian’s fought pit rage before. It takes longer than he’d like to come back to himself, but when he does, it’s to see both Grayson and Todd crouched near him. Todd’s arm is thrown out before Grayson, telling him to stay back, his other inching forward towards Damian. 

The knife in his hands falls to the floor, and Damian crumples along with it. 

When he does, Todd takes it as his cue to rush forward and collect Damian back into his arms. It’s less of a comforting hold and more of a restraining one, just in case Damian happens to attack again. It’s not like it hurts. 

“I’m fine, Todd,” Damian mutters. Todd doesn’t put him down, but he changes his hold around Damian so that he’s more or less sitting on his hip. Then, small, Damian says, “I’m sorry.” 

“It looked like a goddamn case of pit _madness,_ ” Todd spits out. “Care to explain what the _hell’s_ going _on_ with you?” 

Damian pushes at Todd’s face and returns, just as hotly, “Better me than _Drake_ in any case, Todd. I’d prefer it if you set me down now.” Actually, he really wouldn’t. He feels kind of woozy and tired, in the way that you get once you’ve cried so much that there’s nothing left but pure exhaustion. As much as he doesn’t like Todd, he’s gotten used to the feeling of death that he radiates. It’s familiar. 

Grayson finally decides that it’s safe enough to get close, which he does after grabbing Damian’s fallen blade. “Alfie and B are dealing with Tim, so we’re all yours for a little bit, Damian. Can you tell us what just happened? One moment, I’m rushing down the stairs with Alfie, and the next, my littlest brother is raging like he’s been pumped full of fear gas.”

“One second,” Todd continues, half-mocking Grayson, and half-concerned, “I was pretty sure that Timmers was going to _die-”_ -was, actually, he _was_ dead- “and then the next, you’re barrelling at him with goddamn glowing green eyes and- What did you _do_ to Replacement over there, Tater Tot? He wasn’t- He wasn’t _breathing,_ and now- what, you _magically_ brought him back to fucking _life_ or some shit?” 

“Precisely,” Damian replies. 

“That doesn’t answer the _question,_ Lil’ D,” Grayson says. Playfully, he pokes at Damian’s cheek. It doesn’t fit the mood at all, so when Grayson smiles, it doesn’t last long. “We won’t- We’re not going to be mad, if you tell us. I- I think you saved Tim’s _life,_ Damian.” 

Damian meets Grayson’s eyes, looking for any hint that he’s lying. 

He doesn’t find anything besides overwhelming _concern._

“When I was little,” Damian says, carefully, like he’s wading out into the dangerous waters of the pit again, “I got hurt. Very badly. Mother and Grandfather had to dunk me in the pit so that I wouldn’t die. They didn’t want all of their efforts to go to waste. But- For some reason, the pit- The Lazarus Pit gave me _powers._ Ever since then, I’ve been able to reanimate things. To _heal_ them.” 

Todd tightens his hold around Damian’s back. “What, so you’re a _walking Lazarus Pit_ now? Whenever you heal people, you go _mad?_ ” 

“It’s either _they_ go mad,” Damian replies, tersely, “or _I_ do. It’s never _been_ that bad before-” 

His sentence is cut off when Grayson places a hand on his cheek, ever so tenderly. His blue eyes look _sad,_ overwhelmingly so. Damian tries to look away, but he doesn’t want to look behind them- where Father and Pennyworth are- or at Todd. “Why didn’t you _tell_ us, Dames?” Grayson asks, quietly. 

“Father doesn’t _like_ people like _me-_ He- I was-” Damian finds himself flailing for purchase, unsure of how to phrase it. He knows- at least, after his time with Grayson- that most of his thoughts had always been _childish,_ but he _was_ still afraid of them coming true. To a point. 

“I thought he might kick me out,” he finally admits, quickly.

Suddenly, there’s air under his feet. Todd’s arms are replaced by Grayson’s, and the scene shifts around him until his chin comes to rest on Grayson’s shoulder. The tight squeeze Grayson gives him is enough to make him wheeze. “Bruce would _never_ do that!” he says, almost indignantly. “You’re his _son-_ and even if he _tried,_ I would _never_ let him do that! You’re _family,_ Damian, and-”

“If you quote _Lilo and Stitch,_ ” Todd breaks through, ruining Grayson’s passionate rant, “I think I might have to shoot your foot.” 

“Please don’t,” Grayson returns. “Either way! _None_ of us are going to send you _away_ for having _powers,_ Damian. I _promise._ ” Just like all that time ago, when Grayson had dashed Damian’s second truth to pieces, he’s managed to do it all over again. Damian’s biggest secret is out, now, but Grayson makes it seem like it’s no big deal at all. “You’re one of us, Dames. We’re with you no matter how much you don’t want us.” 

Damian doesn’t try to tell him that he _really_ wants them to stay. 

“You’re one of us,” Grayson repeats. “No matter how absolutely _magical_ you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhh i should prob clean this up, huh. the pacing is outta wack. 
> 
> anyway, damian's powers are: he basically can heal/revive anyone or anything! as long as it was alive once. there is a time limit of seven minutes, for all dead things. when he uses his power, there's lasting pit effects on whoever he uses it on. normally, damian's fine with leaving the pit effects on the person/thing he heals- it doesn't really effect animals, and the people he heals don't require much energy. however, he CAN pass the effects onto himself if he tries hard enough.
> 
> YEAH OKAY. 
> 
> this is shit im tired goodnight


End file.
